


The Case of the Missing Migglesworth

by Mynuet



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 10:36:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1601849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mynuet/pseuds/Mynuet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The cats of Beacon Hills are mysteriously disappearing and it's up to Stiles and Derek, his trusty werewolf sidekick, to find out why!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Case of the Missing Migglesworth

"No, you don't understand, this is _important_."

 

Derek gave Stiles the raised eyebrows of infinite scorn, but didn't make a move to get off his couch. He didn't even close his book. Stiles tugged at his hair and kept pacing, trying to think of a way to make him actually _listen_.

 

"Stiles." And now it was the weary sigh of sorely tested patience. Stiles really wanted to kick him. "What does it matter if your neighbor's cat disappeared? It happens."

 

"Mister Migglesworth doesn't like to get his paws dirty, okay? He literally won't even walk in his own yard, and all of a sudden he heard the call of the wild? No." Stiles threw himself down on the couch, one arm over his face. "Mrs. Bajorek was a friend of my mom's, okay? She babysat me and taught me how to pronounce my own name, and that cat is like her kid."

 

Derek was probably rolling his eyes. Stiles might not be able to see it, but the Hale powers of disdain were ultra-strong. It wouldn't be the first time, though, and Stiles could take it.

 

"Look, just because Scott is busy right now--"

 

"Oh my God, _seriously?_ " The pitying tone was enough to rocket Stiles out of his seat. "Fuck you. Just... fuck you."

 

The loft door wasn't built to be slammed, especially by someone without superpowers, but Stiles gave it his best shot. "Asshole," he muttered as he climbed in his Jeep, hitting the steering wheel with his fist. "And fuck me for thinking anything different."

 

***

 

The problem was that he still had no damn leads. The only thing he'd gotten out of Deaton was that he hadn't had any stray cats brought in for several days. Animal control didn't have any records of a cat of that description, alive or dead. There might be something significant to the fact that they'd had an unusually light few days in terms of strays, and that their number of pets in the shelter were at record lows... But Stiles couldn't think of what. He'd even tried googling for the existence of some kind of cat eating monster, but nothing even vaguely likely had shown up.

 

He drove slowly, keeping an eye out for strays. Hadn't there been one that hung out in the school parking lot? It would make sense for there to be some in the alley behind the seafood restaurant, but if there were any they weren't there anymore. And he had no idea how to find out either way, because, once again, no superpowers.

 

Getting home to see Derek leaning against his Camaro next to the Stilinski driveway almost made him turn around to take another drive around town. His tragic lack of gas money was the only reason he pulled in, and he did his best to completely ignore the Hale-shaped cloud of looming darkness in his peripheral vision. Even when it followed him onto his porch.

 

"You're being childish," Derek said. Stiles stuck his tongue out, because it seemed called for. "That just proves my point."

 

Stiles stopped just inside the front door, holding his arm across it to block Derek's entrance. "Did you find anything out about Mrs. Bajorek's cat?"

 

"Can you just forget the stupid cat? There's--"

 

The satisfaction of slamming the door in Derek's shocked face warmed Stiles up from the inside out. Humming to himself, he flipped the deadbolt and dropped his keys into the bowl by the door.   "Dammit, Stiles!"

 

Happily ignoring the shout, and the knocks on the door, Stiles fixed himself a snack and retreated to his room to put on his headphones and give research another try. Surely there had to be an explanation somewhere for why a cat - and possibly multiple cats - would just disappear.

 

He'd honestly forgotten all about leaving Derek outside by the time the landline rang, the deliberately loud, wake you up out of a coma ring startling him so much he almost fell out of his chair. Running to pick it up, he said breathlessly, "Is everything okay?"

 

"Not if I have to answer a complaint at my own house." The fact that it was his dad speaking was reassuring enough that it took Stiles a minute to process what he was saying. "Some bearded guy in a leather jacket was creeping around our bushes and casing the neighbors' back yards. Ring any bells?"

 

Rubbing the back of his head, Stiles said, "I'll take care of it."

 

"Tell Hale to get a shave," his dad said. "And maybe wear a sweater sometime."

 

"Uh. Yeah, I don't know, I think any cozy knitwear would cause his skin to break out, or spontaneously combust if it came in contact with him."

 

His dad chuckled before hanging up, and Stiles squared his shoulders before going to open the back door. "Here, puppy puppy puppy! C'mere, boy! There might be a treeee-eat! Here--"

 

"Keep that up and I'll have you neutered," Derek snarled, pushing Stiles and following him inside.

 

"I feel like there's a joke to be made here involving either your claws or teeth, but I'm not sure exactly which approach to take." Stiles poured himself a glass of water and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Find anything interesting in the bushes?"

 

Shrugging, Derek said, "No cats have been here recently. I couldn't even tell which of your neighbors had a cat."

 

With a tilt of his head, Stiles said, "That can't be true. The Manahans have a tabby that's always hopping the fence to crap in our bushes and leave small dead things on our patio."

 

"Not for at least a week," Derek said.

 

Stiles felt his gaze go unfocused. "Maybe they really weren't there. But who would want that many cats? Even old ladies don't go kidnap all the strays in town."

 

Trying to think of any reasonable explanation, or a possible string of search terms, Stiles checked his pockets for his wallet and phone and grabbed his keys. Absently, he said, "Thanks, Derek."

 

"What're you planning?"

 

"Hm?" Shaking his head, Stiles said, "It's fine. Just testing something. See you later, okay?"

 

***

 

If he'd thought that was the end of it, Stiles learned he was mistaken when he spotted a shadow following him to the hardware store, and then to an alley behind the police station. Stiles just ignored him, setting up the humane cat trap he'd bought and baiting it with a can of the cat food the guys from the station kept stacked up back here specifically to feed Old Pirate.

 

He settled in to wait, continuing to ignore Derek even when he slid into the passenger seat of the Jeep and stared at the trap right alongside Stiles. The boredom was soon overtaking him and he kept almost forgetting he was mad at Derek before he remembered and stopped himself from talking.

 

"You are really incredibly bad at the silent treatment," Derek finally said with a small huffing laugh.

 

"Shut up, it's been hours. You missed my conversation, or you wouldn't have started one."

 

Shaking his head, Derek said, "It's been twenty minutes."

 

Stiles crossed his arms, pressing his lips together in a renewed determination not to say anything. It had been longer than that, it had to have been, and anyway it shouldn't be much longer. Old Pirate never resisted getting caught, he just always ran away from whatever home he got fostered or adopted into and ended up right back behind the police station.

 

"Are you--"

 

Waving a hand through the air, Stiles shushed Derek with what was probably a bit too much enthusiasm. "Stop talking so much."

 

Derek shot him a sidelong glare, and Stiles grinned toothily in return. The disgruntled look on Derek's face carried Stiles through a return to the mind-numbing boredom of staring at an empty trap, waiting for something to happen.

 

When it finally did, it was between one blink and the next. Old Pirate slunk up through the alley, looking more battered and frazzled than ever as he strolled into the trap. He'd barely touched his nose to the food before he blinked out of existence. Stiles rubbed his eyes and did a quick count of his fingers before Derek said, "I saw it, too."

 

"Fucking magic, man," Stiles whined. "Why couldn't it just be someone kidnapping them for ransom or something fucking _normal_ for once?"

 

"Do people normally ransom cats in your world?"

 

It was a fair point, but Stiles was not one to be reasonable when he was holding a grudge. "About as often as they decide to listen when I say something's wrong and I need help."

 

Starting the car up, Stiles added, "I've got research to do. Figure out your own way home."

 

"Or I could follow the cat's scent," Derek said softly, looking out of the window instead of at Stiles. "See if there's any clues where it came from."

 

The fight went out of Stiles and he nodded. "Sure. That... that would be good. Pirate's never been that beat up before."

 

"I'll call you if I find something." Slipping out of the car, Derek paused. "It's... I'm sorry."

 

He disappeared into the shadows before Stiles could respond, and he was too busy being shocked to even mock him for it.

 

***

 

"I've got good news and bad news," Stiles told Derek over the phone. "The good news is, I still can't find any kind of cat-eating monster anywhere in my sources. Household pets in general, sure, but not cat-specific."

 

This earned him a sort of grunt, which Stiles interpreted to mean 'do go on, I'm fascinated and waiting breathlessly in anticipation for the next words from your mouth.' Mostly because if he didn't want to keep listening, Derek would just hang up. He'd done it before.

 

"The bad news is, I don't have any idea why they're being taken. For all I know, someone is planning on going all Cruella DeVille with the town's cats, or use them for unethical lab experiments or something else human but still completely awful."

 

After a moment, Derek said, "The cat behind the police station didn't smell like he'd been around a lot of blood, or like chemicals. I followed the scent for half an hour, I would have been able to tell if it had been around people doing either of those things."

 

"Okay. Okay, so that's good," Stiles said. "Doesn't give us anything on motive, but it's good to know Mr. Migglesworth is at least being spared from being turned into earmuffs."

 

Derek huffed, and it might have been a laugh. "Try working on the how. There can't be that many people who can literally make things vanish."

 

"Yeah, the problem there is that I don't know how to even find out how." Stiles ran a hand through his hair, tugging it to relieve his frustration. "I haven't found a Using the Spark for Fun and Profit book, and Deaton just keeps saying shit that's probably supposed to sound like Mr. Miyagi but is really just lolnope."

 

"Figure it out." And there, there was the abrupt disconnection that Stiles had been expecting. Because Derek Hale was much too gruff and manly to deal in manners or pleasantries.

 

In a weird way, though, it was a vote of confidence. Derek was impatient because he didn't have even the slightest doubt that Stiles would figure it out, and that was actually kind of nice.

 

So, right. How to make things disappear into thin air, without wires or mirrors. Stiles looked at the books scattered around his room and cracked his knuckles. Since the answer wasn't in them, it would be in the library or in the books his mom had stored in the attic. He was going to find it.

 

***

 

"Dude, we need to find a cat!" Stiles was pacing the floor, shaking as he ran his free hand through his hair while talking into the phone. "Like, right now, any cat. We need one. We need a cat."

 

The silence on the other end of the phone stretched out long enough that he checked if the call had dropped, but it was still connected. "Derek? Come on, I need you."

 

"I'm on my way," Derek said. "Don't take any more of your pills before I get there, and drink some water."

 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, okay. So, what, fifteen minutes? I should... Jeez, I should shower, except then I'll probably get dirty again chasing cats around, so--"

 

"Take a shower," Derek said. "Then get dressed and meet me in your driveway."

 

It said something about his state of mind that he did exactly what he was told, bringing the book with him and only noticing how dark it was when he tried to read over the passage he'd found and couldn't. Checking the time on his phone made him wince, and the first thing he said when he slid into Derek's passenger seat was, "I am so, so sorry."

 

"It's fine." Derek spared a glance at the seat belt, which Stiles hastened to put on.

 

"Four o'clock in the morning is not fine," Stiles said, clasping his hands together and studying the pattern of lines on the skin of his knuckles. "You should've hung up on me, seriously."

 

Shrugging, Derek said, "You said you needed me."

 

The ease with which he said it made Stiles sit back, his mouth closed as his mind whirled with what it meant and how it affected things and whether he'd do the same. For his dad, yes, for Scott, yes. For Derek?

 

Yes. When had that happened? "When did we become friends?"

 

"Sometime between the evil lizard and the evil fox demon," Derek said. "I think it was right around when I didn't kill you for the phrase 'Return of the Evil Ex Part Two: The Bitch is Back.'"

 

"Come on, that was comedy _gold_ ," Stiles said, snuggling back into the leather seat. "The look on her face was totally worth the pistol whipping."

 

Derek shot him a look that made his disagreement clear, and Stiles laughed. "Come on, keep your eyes peeled. We need a cat."

 

***

 

Stiles didn't remember falling asleep, but he woke up on Derek's couch with a crick in his neck and a mouth drier than the Mojave. The place felt empty, and Stiles groaned as he rolled off the couch, landing on the floor with a thud. Theoretically, he should be exercising or taking a supplement to deal with the effects of a spectacular Adderall crash, but he couldn't think well enough to process how to stand up.

 

He'd gotten as far as visualizing the process, his eyes closed as he rested in preparation for the effort. And maybe he might've fallen a little asleep, but there was no call for dropping a cat on him, pointy side down. "Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy?"

 

"Go shower, you stink like old sweat." The little claws that had been digging into him were carefully removed, and when Stiles held up a hand he was hauled to his feet, thus proving that he had been utterly wrong to ever doubt the unparalleled value of Derek's existence. The little push towards the bathroom was probably a bit much, though.

 

By the time he got to the kitchen, freshly showered and wearing the clothes Derek had left out for him, there was a glass of orange juice and a plate of cut-up fruit waiting for him. "Is it weird that I have clothes here? Because I think it's weird."

 

"You're weird," Derek said with a shrug, not looking up from his newspaper. "I've learned to just deal with it."

 

"Thanks a lot, asshole." Sitting down to drink his juice, Stiles let the silence settle over them while he waited for his brain to get with the program. Finally, he said, "So, cat?"

 

Derek put down the paper, revealing a black kitten curled up on his lap. There was a tiny cast on the kitten's foot and Stiles felt his heart flip over. "Kitty."

 

"You are not naming her kitty," Derek said firmly, stroking her fur. "Nothing ironic or cutesy."

 

Stiles put down the piece of cantaloupe he was holding. "You're keeping her?"

 

"It's not like I'm going to throw her back under the dumpster." Derek's shoulders hunched up and Stiles stifled a smile at how defensive he was at getting caught doing something cute. "I had to drive out to Shelbyville to find her; there's no cats left in Beacon Hills at all."

 

"You're awesome, let no one ever tell you otherwise." Stiles popped another piece of fruit in his mouth and wondered if Derek was blushing or the light was just weird. He wanted to pet the kitty, but going over and sitting that close to Derek, putting his hand that close to Derek's lap, was just not happening. He liked breathing; it was a habit he hoped to continue for many long years to come.

 

"What's the plan?" Derek's gruff voice was startling as it broke the silence, and Stiles jumped a bit. "You never said why you needed the cat."

 

Trying to pretend he was something resembling smooth, Stiles sipped the last of his juice and said, "For the spell I found."

 

Derek's hands closed over the kitten, who mewed in protest. "I didn't take her to the vet hospital just so you could--"

 

"Whoa, whoa, hey, no animal cruelty here!" Stiles held up his hands in surrender. "We're just going to piggyback on the transportation spell to go wherever the cats are being sent."

 

"Fine." Derek started moving his hands again, soothing the kitten back to sleep. It could not have been more adorable. "What do you need to get ready?"

 

Licking his fingers clean after one last piece of melon, Stiles said, "I'm good. It's mostly just contact and willpower, so we can go any time."

 

Derek was studiously examining the ceiling above his head. Stiles craned his neck to figure out why, then shrugged and stood, checking his pockets even though he'd just put everything back in after the shower. "Come on, big guy. Bring Princess Licorice Haleinski and let's go catnapper hunting."

 

"That is _not_ her name," Derek said firmly.

 

***

 

Stiles had not fully thought through the necessity for contact until they were out of the Camaro and standing in yet another shadowy alley. Looking between Derek and the cat, he tried to think of any other viable option and finally sighed. "We're going to have to hold hands, dude."

 

"You just figured that out?" Derek held out a hand, keeping Licorice firmly tucked against his chest with the other.

 

"Shut up." Trying not to think about the fact that he was strolling hand in hand with Derek Hale, Stiles said, "Let me hold her."

 

With a shake of the head, Derek said, "You'll drop her."

 

"How could I drop such a cutie? Licorice Haleinski is the princess of my heart." The cat's unimpressed look matched Derek's, and Stiles had to laugh. "Oh my God, she even looks like you already. She's going to grow up and develop eyebrows capable of expressing paragraphs of emotion in a single twitch."

 

Derek didn't bother to answer, just tightened his grip and kept walking. Stiles fell in step beside him, hoping his hand didn't get sweaty and that he'd be able to stay quiet and not annoy Derek.

 

He lasted right up until Derek said, "It's still a stupid name."

 

The ensuing argument led into an agreement on the cat's first name, but they hadn't settled the issue of a last name before Stiles felt something go through him like a shock of static electricity, and he lunged to pull Derek into a hug that encompassed the now-yowling Licorice. The physical sensation of being squeezed through a tube was one of the least pleasant in a life that had included wedgies, broken teeth, and more stitches than he cared to count, even before all the werewolf related shenanigans.

 

"Motherfucker." It came out as a hoarse whisper rather than the pained shout it had been intended as. That didn't seem like quite enough to account for the shocked gasp he heard immediately afterward.

 

"You said a cuss word!"

 

Stiles blinked and met Derek's eyes before they both turned their heads in sync to spy a little girl, her red jeans and sequined top covered in cat hair. Her hair was done up to form what was either a giant bow or cat ears, and she was holding on to Old Pirate despite his grim struggles to get away. "I'm, uh, I'm sorry?"

 

"If that's another damn cat--" The voice had started from outside the green and white princess-themed bedroom, and stopped abruptly when the owner of the voice stopped so suddenly that her long braids were still swishing. "What the fuck are you doing in my baby's _room_?"

 

Stiles couldn't think of any rational explanation, but while he was trying his mouth worked without the full permission of his brain. "We're not pedophiles, I promise!"

 

That was the complete opposite of helpful, as the woman pulled her daughter behind her and backed away, looking as if she'd disembowel them if they so much as twitched. Derek just thunked his head back against the floor, and Stiles wasn't sure what would've happened next if Licorice hadn't chosen that moment to wriggle out from between them and let out a pitiful meow.

 

The girl's shriek of "KITTY!" almost drowned out her mother's soft curse.

 

"We're here to help," Derek said, rolling Stiles off of him and then sitting up slowly. "Are all of the cats here?"

 

Ultimately, it took three enormous coffees and a quick call to Deaton for confirmation, but Stiles worked out that the little girl had managed to inadvertently cast a spell to bring every single feline within a certain radius to her room. Pointing out it was lucky that they weren't any closer to the zoo was not helpful, but the mom, Tanisha, settled down after Derek smacked Stiles on the back of the head and told him to just fix it.

 

That took a little longer, but they could tell when the spell was broken when the sea of cats in the backyard started bolting through gaps under the privacy fencing or bounding over it using the trees to help climb. Looking around, Stiles said, "Okay, so... How do we feel about this?"

 

"We feel like the smell of cat shit is probably never going away," Tanisha said sourly. "But at least the actual cats are. I don't have the gas money to keep driving them to shelters."

 

"Oh, shit, we don't have a car," Stiles said, and Derek rolled his eyes. "Look, it's a relevant observation of a problem. What're we supposed to do, call a cab? My dad would hear about it ten seconds after I'd been dropped off."

 

Rolling his eyes, Derek said, "Call Scott."

 

"Oh, sure, we both ride home on the back of his bike, with Princess Licorice and Old Pirate and Mr. Migglesworth all hanging on to your leather jacket."

 

"I'll give you a ride," Tanisha said. "But you've got to come back and haul some of these cats to the shelter or something. They already ruined my yard, they're not ruining my interior while I'm still making payments."

 

"Yes, ma'am." Derek ducked his head down, prompting the first smile that they'd seen from her. "I think some lime or bone meal would help with the smell - maybe some fresh soil mixed in, too."

 

Tanisha nodded and turned away to grab her keys and call for Imani. Stiles stuffed his hands in his pockets and wondered what to say. "So..."

 

"You should rework that spell," Derek said. "Get all the strays in town to go straight to Deaton."

 

"But..." Stiles trailed off as it dawned on him that Derek knew damn well that the shelter was miles away from Deaton's office, and that they tended to expect Deaton to offer his services for free for any animal he brought to them.

 

As the slow smile dawned over Stiles's face, Derek's lips twitched. "He really wasn't very helpful with this."

 

"You are a devious bastard and I love you."

 

Derek looked at him with wide eyes, and Stiles stared back as he realized what he'd said, and that he might mean it. He had no idea how to make things better, and the time to pass it off as a joke was rapidly passing away while Stiles tried to get his brain to engage.

 

"Save it for later, boys." Tanisha slipped on her sunglasses and helped Imani into her booster seat. When had she even come back outside? "You've got some cats to deal with. One prissy one's still hiding behind my grill on the patio."

 

"Mr. Migglesworth," Stiles said with relief. "I've got to get him home."

 

Tanisha snorted. "Not in my car. Let's go get yours."

 

***

 

By the time he'd cast the spell and gotten Mr. Migglesworth back safely to Mrs. Bajorek, Stiles was so tired that he fell asleep in the Jeep. Luckily it had been parked in his own driveway, and when his dad came home he just sighed and woke him up enough to send him to bed. He figured Derek would probably be by in the morning to talk to him about what he'd said, but he wasn't.

 

He wasn't there the next day, either.

 

By the third day, Stiles was starting to panic. He really couldn't lose his go-to call for weirdness and mystery solving, because dragging Scott out at night had really stopped being fun after a certain January night that involved biting. And, beyond that, he didn't think he could deal without having someone being a sarcastic asshole right back at him. And, you know, so what if Derek was hot? It didn't have to matter. Stiles could've totally meant it platonically. Derek didn't have to run away.

Picking up the phone as he paced around his room, Stiles pushed the icon for Derek's number and fumed as it went straight to voicemail. "Hey, asshole, sorry for caring about you, fuckhead. Sorry I said anything that you couldn't just take as a fucking _joke_ , because that's all I am anyway, right? Fuck you, I hope Licorice claws your face off."

 

"Haleinski is a stupid name." Stiles shrieked, the phone flying from his hand to bounce off Derek's head as he climbed in through the window. "I'm glad you've realized that."

 

"Uh." Stiles was frozen in place, trying to figure out what to say. "You... My window..."

 

Shrugging, Derek said, "I heard you and I wasn't sure you'd open the door if I knocked."

 

Stiles turned his back on Derek, sitting down at his computer desk and opening his laptop. Cool. Calm. Uninterested. "Sure, whatever."

 

"You're not a joke." He couldn't quite tell what Derek was doing, and trying to look out of the corner of his eye without Derek noticing was definitely not working. "It's... If you were joking, though, that's... It's okay."

 

"What if..." Stiles swallowed hard, closing his eyes. "What if I might mean it? If not now then someday?"

 

Gingerly, Derek laid a hand on his shoulder. "I didn't think you'd feel that way."

 

"So what? Are you freaked out? The spastic, loud-mouthed--"

 

"Yes, I'm freaked out," Derek said. "And you shouldn't say spastic, because people with seizures--"

 

With a growl, Stiles came out of his seat and pushed Derek back. "Seriously? _Seriously?_ "

 

"I'm freaked out because you're younger than me," Derek said. When Stiles started to say something, Derek clamped a hand over his mouth and kept going. "I'm freaked out because everyone I ever thought I loved turned out to be a murdering psycho. I'm freaked out because I haven't been with a guy before and I don't know if I'd be any good at suck-- at _sex_ , even if I can't stop thinking about doing those things with you, and it makes me feel incredibly guilty to even think about it because you're so _young_. I'm freaked out that I might be taking advantage of you, and that you might not really feel that way, and that maybe _I'm_ the joke."

 

His hand had loosened as he kept talking, but Stiles didn't have any more inclinations to interrupt. When Derek finally stopped, his shoulders drooping, Stiles was quick to reach for his hands and hold them. "Want to freak out together?"

 

"Stiles..."  
  
"Maybe we don't have to start with love or, you know, sex." Stiles could feel his face burning, but he pushed through. "Maybe we could start with a date."

 

A small smile broke over Derek's face and he said wryly, "One without a mystery to solve?"

 

"Just the mystery of what you'd see in someone like me," Stiles said, smiling back. "And hey, we do what we're good at."

 

"More like what you're doing with me." Whether Derek intended to say anything else, Stiles didn't know and didn't really care. He'd leaned in just enough, and Stiles closed the distance between them and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> My apologies for any mistakes; this is unbeta'd, so they're all mine. The genesis of this story was a prompt by bleep0bleep from a [meme](http://mynuet.tumblr.com/post/85073004805/send-me-one-of-the-following-character-names-and-ill) started by whonatural, so thanks to both of those lovely people. 
> 
> If anyone spots any glaring mistakes, or feels like volunteering to beta the next thing I'm writing, please feel free to holla by any method of your choosing. (And also, feel free to suggest any tags you feel are appropriate; I fail completely at tagging.)


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